All I Want For Christmas
by phoebe2
Summary: An unabashedly fluffy Jim/Barbara story taking place on the Christmas Eve immediately following the events in "Choices". Jim finds an unexpected way to reaffirm the choices and promises he made to Barbara.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_A/N: An unabashed bit of Jim Gordon-related fluff for Christmas. The idea appeared while I was busy with a long, Harry Potter chaptered story and refused to leave the Gryffindor boys' dormitory until I agreed to write this. I hope you enjoy it and I hope __**you**__ receive what __**you**__ want most this holiday season!_

**All I Want for Christmas **

The fluorescent light flickered to life as the uniformed policeman flipped the wall switch upward. A moment later, a detective from Jim Gordon's unit entered the small interrogation room, gripping a disheveled man by the arm.

"Take a load off," Andy O'Meara said when the pair reached the green metal table with four matching chairs situated around it. When the prisoner had dropped into the seat he indicated, Andy glanced at the two-way mirror across from him. "Sit tight," he ordered, heading toward the door.

"You won't need the extra muscle, Detective," came the weary voice of the man behind him. "I told you I'm ready to tell you what I know."

O'Meara paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I just want to make sure your audience is in place, Sal; like I said – sit tight."

The door closed behind him and the young detective took his place next to Sergeant Gerry Stephens. "Nice collar, Andy," the older detective said, smiling. "That guy ought to give us enough to pick up most of the Petrino family."

"He won't give us anything until someone starts questioning him," came a soft voice behind them.

Gerry turned to see his friend, now the commissioner, walking toward the pair by the window. When he reached them, Jim Gordon extended his hand to O'Meara. "Nice job, Detective."

The younger man hesitated for a moment then clasped Jim's hand. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

Jim smiled. "An Assistant D.A. is outside and she's pretty anxious to sit in on this one. She's even brought a stenographer with her so they don't miss anything."

O'Meara nodded and turned toward the door. "If you want to get started, sir, I'll bring the others in."

"Hold up, son," Jim put a hand on his arm. "It's your collar – and your interrogation. We'll listen in from here."

The younger man's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded and retraced his steps to the interrogation room door. "Thank you, sir," he said for the second time before opening the door. Jim nodded and picked up the phone next to the window. "Send them into Interrogation One," he said into the mouthpiece. As he replaced it the door opened behind them and two women in suits passed through and joined the pair at the table.

"It's show time," Gerry said quietly. "Sally Tedesco's been the Petrinos' go-to guy for a lot of years. _This_ should be good."

"Let's make sure we do everything right on this one, Gerry," Jim replied. "That includes finding a safe place – and foolproof protection - for Mr. Tedesco. I don't want Petrino's fancy lawyers to find any holes in our work. And I don't want Petrino's gorillas to _put _any holes in our star witness."

Gerry grinned. "Already in the works, Boss. And I've got to believe that Miss Pearson in there will find some judge willing to issue a few warrants tonight."

"I'm sure she will. Petrino doesn't own _all _the judges – and the ones that still believe in what their job stands for would be willing to issue warrants _tomorrow_ if it meant doing some honest damage to Petrino's family," Jim said. He turned toward the window once again. "They're starting."

For the next thirty minutes, the two colleagues listened intently as Sal Tedesco revealed more about the Petrino family operation in Gotham City – and beyond – than Jim had dared to even hope he'd hear. As the older man spoke, the stenographer dutifully recorded every word – every syllable that would help Jim's squad finally break the spine of one of the largest crime families that had ever plagued Gotham.

Finally, Tedesco paused and asked for water before continuing with his statement. As the group prepared to break, Jim looked at his old friend. "You were right about that kid; he's got a lot of potential."

Gerry felt his face flush. "Wasn't hard to spot, Jimmy; his father was one of the best we had." Jim nodded and the two fell silent, remembering Thomas O'Meara who had been one of the Joker's victims when the explosions had rocked through Gotham's hospitals earlier in the year.

As the group reconvened and Tedesco appeared ready to take up his tale once again, Jim turned to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Gerry. Give Janie my best."

"Merry – _hey_, don't you want to stick around and hear the rest of this?" Gerry's face registered his surprise.

Jim shook his head and turned toward the door. "You've got it under control, Sergeant. Wrap it up and go home when you can. It's Christmas Eve and I'm spending tonight and tomorrow with Barbara and the kids…._just _Barbara and the kids; for _once_." He paused and smiled at the other man, rummaging in his pocked for his cell phone. He held down the power button and watched as the display flickered then went dark. "No offense, Gerry."

Gerry chuckled. "None taken, _Jimmy_. Go on home to your family. You deserve it."

Jim opened the door that led to the hallway – and the building's exit. "Get out of here as soon as you can."

"Merry Christmas, Jimmy."

The streets of Gotham's downtown district had been tastefully decorated with fragrant balsam garlands that hung over the streets, secured between the steel lamp posts with festive wire and ribbon. The greenery had been strewn with miniature white lights and the center of each garland boasted a large wreath, similarly lit and adorned with a large, deep burgundy velvet bow. A small band of flurries had moved through the city earlier in the afternoon, leaving a dusting of snow that still remained on the boughs. Driving through the city on his way home, Jim found himself gawking at these decorations in much the same way he had gazed at those hung in his hometown of Chicago, when he was a young boy.

_You're getting sappy in your old age, Gordon_, Jim chuckled to himself and he pressed lightly on the accelerator, anxious to complete his final errand and get home to his wife. Finding a parking space in front of the building, Jim locked his car and walked into Gotham City Jewelers. As he had when he'd dropped off his repair earlier in the week, Jim took in the elegant appointments of the jeweler's showroom. From the deeply cushioned chairs situated in front of the most exclusive cases to the ornate mahogany door that silenced the sounds of the city outside, his surroundings were those that appealed to Gotham's wealthy – and made him more than a little uncomfortable.

"Commissioner Gordon," Jim turned in the direction of the well-modulated voice and smiled at the store manager who was approaching him.

"Mr. Black," Jim shook the outstretched hand. "My secretary said you'd called to say that my order was ready."

"It is, indeed, Commissioner; if you will come this way." The manager led the way to the back of the store where the transactions were discreetly settled. He disappeared into an area far behind the counter but returned a moment later with a small, very old black velvet box in his hand. Harold Black faced the box toward Jim and opened the lid to reveal the contents. Jim felt his smile grow wider as he put a finger forward to brush the metal lightly. _Beautiful. Who would have thought that _this _lay beneath all that grime? _

"I trust the work is to your satisfaction, sir?"

Jim looked up at the other man. "Completely; thank you." Jim reached into his pocket and withdrew his checkbook. As he wrote the check for the required amount, Jim declined the offer to gift wrap the item. "This is how it was given to me, so I think I'll pass it along the same way."

"If I may say so, Commissioner, it's lovely. The craftsmen who created pieces such as this one were true artists and, sadly, most have long since passed away. It was a pleasure to restore it for you."

Jim nodded. "Thank you. It was passed to my grandmother by her mother. I only remember seeing it on special occasions. Then, she died and we never knew what happened to it."

"May I ask how it was found?" the manager's interest was obviously sincere and Jim smiled.

"It was entirely by accident. Her estate passed to an uncle of mine who recently died." Jim waived off his expression of sympathy with a smile. "He was sort of the family scoundrel, you see, so I didn't really know him. The person handling his estate was getting his house ready for sale and they found a locked strongbox tucked away on a shelf in the attic. It had my name on it, so his lawyers did some digging and after a little legal back and forth, it was mine."

Harold smiled. "I have a feeling that this is finally with its rightful owner. I'm glad they were able to find you."

"So am I," Jim replied, handing the other man his check. "I spent quite a bit of time with my grandmother when I was a child. I'm very happy to have something that meant so much to her." He paused as he put away his checkbook then added, "And it _will _be with its rightful owner a little later on tonight. Thank you, again – and Merry Christmas."

Almost before he knew it, Jim had slipped the small box into his coat pocket, smiled his thanks to the manager and was back in his car. "Next stop – home." Impulsively, he pushed the power button on the radio and immediately, the car was filled with the strains of a children's choir's very enthusiastic rendition of "Frosty the Snowman". Jim deftly maneuvered out of the parking space and steered the car back onto the street, accelerating as the business district slipped past him and the more residential areas of the city came into view. Ten minutes later, Jim turned into his own driveway. Walking up the steps toward his front door, he felt a few snowflakes collide with his cheeks and he glanced upward. The sky was that peculiar shade of pewter that often preceded a heavy snow. _Perfect timing._

"Daddy's home!" Maggie's voice cut through the air as Jim closed the front door quietly behind him. He felt for the velvet box before removing his coat and hanging it in the hall closet.

"And here I thought I was being quiet," he said, smiling as Barbara came around the corner. She leaned up and gave Jim a kiss on the cheek, letting out a small squeak of surprise when he pulled her into a tight embrace. "I think we can do better than _that_," he teased, pulling back to look at her face. "It _is _Christmas, after all."

Barbara laughed and started to reply but got no further. Jim lowered his head and covered her lips with his own, kissing her thoroughly. When they broke for air, he smiled at her slightly dazed expression. "There. I think that qualifies as '_better_'," he said, kissing the corner of her mouth before releasing her and taking a step backward.

Barbara smiled. "What's the next one _after_ 'better'?' she asked.

"We're going to have to explore _that_ one later! _Maggie-mine_," Jim winked at his wife before turning to catch his young daughter as she hurled herself at him.

"_Daddy_! You came home early!" the four-year-old kissed her father soundly on one cheek then leaned back to look at him.

"You look surprised," Jim said, arching his eyebrows and struggling to keep a straight face at Maggie's stern expression.

"Hi, Dad!" Jimmy came down the hallway, smiling when he saw his father.

Barbara reached over and plucked Maggie from her husband's arms, effectively silencing any reply she might have been considering. "Come along, Miss and let your brother say hello to Daddy. You and I need to wash those filthy paws of yours before we start decorating those cookies! I swear I don't know _how _you pick up all that dirt _inside_ this house."

Maggie's reply was lost to them as Barbara carried her to the bathroom and closed the door.

Jim hugged his seven year-old son. "Are you gonna help me bring the tree inside and put it in the stand?"

Jimmy's face lit up. "Yeah; you'll really let me help this year?"

"Well, I can't do it all by myself; your mother and sister picked out a two-man tree this year, after all. I'll be surprised if it even fits in the living room. We might have to open a window just to have enough room to sit down!" Jim smiled when his son began to laugh. "Let me go change my clothes and then we can bring it in and let it stand for awhile."

"We already moved the furniture away from the window," Jimmy said, following Jim down the hall, stopping when he reached his own bedroom door.

Jim backtracked and looked into the living room. "I still think we'll have to open a window to fit _that_ thing inside…" He looked over at Jimmy and saw that the boy was still wearing his school clothes. "You'd better put on some old sweatpants before we tackle that tree. Mom will have _both _of our heads if you ruin your good clothes. Go ahead and change then meet me outside, ok?" He watched his son disappear into his bedroom before continuing down the hall to his own.

"Please tell me that you're not going to turn our 7 year-old son into a testosterone-driven lumberjack type," Barbara teased from the doorway where she leaned against one side.

Jim looked up from tying his boots and grinned. "Heard that part about the size of the tree you and Maggie picked out, did you? Serves you right, you know; that thing _is _huge!"

"It is not_ that_ big, James Gordon!" Barbara advanced into the room.

"That's a terrible thing to say to your husband, Mrs. Gordon," Jim wise-cracked, face turning slightly pink as he did so. He rose and stifled her giggle with a kiss.

"You'd better watch it; you'll find yourself on Santa's "naughty" list if you don't," Barbara said, slightly breathlessly, when they broke apart.

"Hmmm. So, did you stop in here just to give me a hard time about my man-to-man chat with Jimmy, or was there something else?"

"Something else," Barbara said, walking to the door with him. "The snow is starting to pick up, so you'd better get to it. I was thinking that I might order a pizza for dinner, given the fact that Maggie has most of the kitchen held hostage with her cookies."

Jim chuckled. "Go ahead. Are they still delivering or should I plan to go out and pick it up?"

"Still delivering 'til 8, then everything shuts down. You've got plenty of time to get the tree situated before it gets here," Barbara replied. She leaned up and kissed his lips lightly. "I don't care how you managed it, but I can tell you that I'm very glad you made it home early this year."

"So am I, Barb," he whispered against her mouth.

"Go deal with the tree so you can spend the rest of the evening inside with us," she whispered back then walked down the hallway and into the kitchen.

With a great deal of good-natured complaining, Jim and his decidedly _non_-lumberjack assistant managed to saw off four inches from the trunk of the tree, affix it firmly in the stand and drag it into the house within the span of a half hour. Under the shelter of the back porch's overhead, the falling snow was a nice backdrop to their activities but the boy who delivered the pizza had an entirely different opinion. The driving conditions were deteriorating rapidly and it turned out that the Gordon's house was the last delivery they would be making that night; the owner had decided to close up shop early.

Jim brought the pizza out to the kitchen and picked up the receiver of the wall phone. Punching in Gerry's home number, he waited for the call to go through. A moment later, Gerry's deep voice came through the wire.

"Gerry, it's Jim. I was…"

"What's happened? You aren't at the office are you? Dammit, Jim…you were supposed to…."

"_Gerry! Shut up!_" Jim rolled his eyes at Barbara then stifled a laugh as Maggie looked at him reproachfully.

"Mommy, we don't say 'shut up' in this house, do we?" her eyes never left her father's face and Jim was forced to turn around to avoid laughing in front of her.

"Sorry, Jimmy. What's up?" Gerry's voice was sheepish.

"The road conditions are getting worse. I just wanted to check in to see who was left on duty. Skeleton crew, right?"

"Yeah; most of the shift lives within walking distance and we've got the SUVs out on the roads for patrol. We're good, partner," Gerry reverted to his former nickname for his friend, now boss.

"Tedesco?"

"I took him to the safe house myself. He's got guards 24/7 and I've got back-up plans for two different sites if this one doesn't work out. Pearson got multiple warrants, but we can't serve 'em 'til Sunday. We got the only judge in the city with a conscience, apparently – and that's all you're getting from me tonight. We're good, Jimmy," Gerry said. "You can stop worrying now." His voice held a smile.

Jim shook his head. "You know _that's _impossible, but thanks for the update. That's great news – and good work. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. And Jim? Don't call me again, will ya? I'll talk to you on Monday."

Jim smiled as the buzz of the dial tone sounded in his ear. He replaced the receiver and looked over at the table. "Any pizza left for me?"

Two hours later, Jim had managed untangle, then arrange all the miniature blue lights on the tree, lifted Maggie up in his arms to put the angel at the very top and was now sitting back in "his" chair as his wife and children hung all the ornaments on the branches. From very old glass balls from their respective childhoods to homemade treasures from the kids to the ornaments they'd purchased since they'd been together, the Gordons' tree was always an eclectic blend of old and new – and Jim wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I see a very bare spot over there by Jimmy's macaroni Rudolph," Barbara called, coming over to sit on the arm of Jim's chair and smiling as she felt his arm go 'round her waist.

Maggie ran over and hung a very large – and somewhat worse for wear – paper snowflake in the offending spot. "There!"

"Perfect," her mother said, bringing her hand to cover her husband's where it rested on her hip. "I think we're about finished, don't you? I can't see one bare branch on that tree!"

"Ok, let's test it out," Jimmy announced, running over to the light switch on the wall. "Three – two – _one_!" and he flipped the switch down, extinguishing all the lamps in the room.

The tree stood straight and tall, framed by the large bay window, branches illuminated by a half-dozen strands of tiny, blue lights, ornaments reflecting the cool glow.

"It's beautiful," Barbara said after a while.

"Can we have Christmas cookies and hot chocolate now?" Maggie wanted to know.

"And watch 'A Christmas Story"?" Jimmy added.

Barbara rose and snapped the lights back on. "Wash your hands and put your pajamas on first," she said, gathering up the boxes that used to hold the ornaments and lights and dropping them back into the large plastic storage container. Jim waited until she snapped the lid in place then lifted it and headed for the basement door.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly. "You run and get your pajamas on and I'll join you shortly."

Barbara walked past him on her way to the kitchen and gave him a light slap on the behind. "Behave yourself, Commissioner or there will be a lump of coal and a stick in your stocking!"

The kids made it slightly less than half-way through the movie before they began to doze off. Jim woke them and handed each of them their stocking to pin up on the side of the window. Barbara gave Maggie a small plate with two heavily frosted cookies which the little girl solemnly put on the window seat near the tree. Jimmy placed a bunch of carrots next to it with a carefully printed note that said, "For you and your reindeer – from Jimmy and Maggie Gordon".

Once the kids were tucked in, Jim headed back down to the basement and Barbara dragged bags from their bedroom closet. Together, they arranged all the Christmas presents under the tree and filled the kids' stockings. Jim and Barbara also had stockings that each had filled for the other and now were brought out and put alongside Jimmy and Maggie's larger ones.

"What's this square thing down in the toe of my stocking?" Jim asked, pinching the area and grinning at his wife.

"Put that down and come over here," Barbara said from the couch. "I swear, you're worse than Jimmy and Maggie put together!"

Jim folded the last of the plastic bags and stuffed them beneath the sofa for use in disposing of shredded wrapping paper and massacred bows and ribbons.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of Barbara's head. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Mmm," she said, nodding her head. "Sounds good; thank you."

Jim went out to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Luna di Luna from the refrigerator, uncorked it and grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard. Glancing into the living room, Jim smiled when he saw that Barbara was curled into a corner of the sofa, eyes closed, enjoying the soft sound of Christmas carols coming from the radio. He continued into the front hallway, setting the wine and glasses on the front table while he silently opened the closet door and pulled the jeweler's box from the pocket of his coat.

Barbara felt Jim's lips brush her cheek and she opened her eyes to see a glass of white wine being held out to her. "Thank you," she said quietly, turning toward him when he settled next to her.

"Merry Christmas," Jim tapped his glass against hers.

"Merry Christmas," she replied. "I love you, by the way."

Jim's blue eyes crinkled as he smiled behind his glass. "I love you, too." He reached over and took her glass, leaning down to set it on the coffee table.

"I was enjoying that," Barbara protested, but fell silent when Jim withdrew a small, velvet box from his trouser pocket and extended it toward her. "What is _this_? I thought we weren't doing anything extravagant this year. We had the house in Maine for a week and we…."

Jim leaned forward and placed a finger of his free hand against her lips. "Shh. I haven't done anything extravagant, I promise you. Go ahead – open it."

Barbara lifted the rather battered, hinged lid of the box and took a sharp breath when she saw its contents. Nestled in the old, white satin form stood a very old diamond ring, set in a very intricately carved platinum setting. The diamond was not large, perhaps three quarters of a carat, but it was exquisite; colorless and beautifully cut, the stone caught the lights from the tree and reflected them back – blended with its own fire. When she raised her eyes to him, Jim saw that they were filled with tears.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Tell me the story."

Jim reached over the top of the box and plucked the ring from its pillow. He took her left hand and slipped the ring over the knuckle of her ring finger, gently urging it downward until it rested against her wedding ring. As he did so, he told her the story that he had told Harold Black earlier in the day, adding to it what his grandmother had written in the letter that had also been found in the depths of the strongbox.

"My great-grandfather was a cop, as you know and he worked very hard to provide for his family. This was the ring he gave my great-grandmother when he proposed to her. He told her that no matter what, she would always come first with him – and he kept that promise, until the day he died. My great-grandfather died when their house caught fire and he went inside to rescue her. She didn't realize that my grandmother had been brought out by one of the firemen and my great-grandmother went back inside to look for her. He found her lying unconscious in an upstairs hallway and lowered her out of a second floor window, using a bed sheet he'd tied around her waist. The roof collapsed as the firemen caught her and carried her away. My grandmother grew up with that story and when her mother died, she passed the ring down to her. My grandmother, as you know, _also _married a cop, who did not meet quite as dramatic end as her father had. He was a good man, though, who always tried to do the right thing – even when he was faced with challenges and temptations. Sometimes he made the wrong choices, and he wasn't perfect, but he tried. My grandmother decided to leave the ring to me after I'd left Chicago. She said that I reminded her of both her father and her husband. She said that I had walked into my own burning building and even though I'd made it out alive, I had not made it out unharmed."

Barbara gasped quietly. "Diana."

Jim nodded, his face flushed. "Apparently, the wives of some of my grandfather's old cronies thought she needed to know the stories."

"Bitches!"

Jim's eyebrows rose. "Yes, well, my grandmother had the same sort of opinion – just a little differently worded," he smiled softly. "At any rate, she said that I looked at you the way my grandfather used to look at _her_ when they were our ages and so she wanted me to have the ring – to give to you."

Barbara brushed at the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, clearing them away. "And it languished in that strongbox for eight years."

Jim nodded. "The letter is dated a couple of weeks before she died. I'm betting she thought the box would have been found a lot sooner."

"It was found when it was supposed to have been found," Barbara said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, kissing him gently. "You were supposed to have it now; to give it to me tonight."

"That's a very mystical point of view, Mrs. Gordon," Jim whispered against her lips. "Very unlike you."

"We've been through our own fire this year – literally and figuratively. Our marriage was tested in the cruelest of ways – and here we are. We survived," Barbara whispered back.

Jim shook his head. "More than 'survived'. We're stronger now. Better than we were." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Don't you feel that way, too?"

"Yes, I do; completely." She raised her hand behind his head and looked at the ring, smiling softly. "Thank you. This is so much more than I would have wished for this year."

Jim returned her smile. "What did you wish for?"

"You," Barbara answered immediately. "Only you. Home. With us. No work. No emergencies."

Jim's smile widened. "I've got that covered, as well."

"What do you mean?"

Jim reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He turned it around so the dark screen faced her. "Present number two!"

Barbara looked at him in confusion for a moment until she realized what the dark screen meant. It was off. Her face cleared and she started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Jim asked, smiling broadly.

"Nothing. I'm just happy; very, very happy," she replied, pulling him close to her once again. "Very happy," she whispered again.

"You make me very happy, Barbie," Jim kissed her neck, nuzzling the soft skin beneath her ear before kissing along her jaw line and returning to press his lips to hers. "The stockings are up, the tree's decorated, it's snowing like crazy outside and I think it's time for that 'long winter's nap' they write about." Jim raised his head and smiled at her. "Care to join me?"

"Gladly, but first, you have one more job to do," Barbara kissed his cheek and rose. Jim watched as she made her way to the window and picked up the plate Maggie had left there.

"You can't be serious," Jim said, eyeing the thick purple-frosted cookies encrusted with multi-colored sugar. "If I eat both of those things it won't be a winter's nap as much as a diabetic coma!"

Barbara glanced over at the window and laughed quietly. "Alright, _Santa_; I think it's snowing hard enough to cover up the evidence. Follow me."

Hours later, Jim woke up and kissed Barbara's forehead where it lay against his shoulder. He glanced down where her hand rested against his chest, the diamond glinting in the muted light. This beautiful thing, enduring years in darkness to come to maturity in the hottest of fires. Jim's gaze shifted back to his wife. _Perfect. _


End file.
